While o’er our guilty land, O Lord,

We view the terrors of thy sword;

O! whither shall the helpless fly;

To whom but thee direct their cry?

2 The helpless sinner’s cries and tears

Are grown familiar to thy ears;

Oft has thy mercy sent relief,

When all was fear and hopeless grief.

3 On thee, our guardian God, we call;

Before thy throne of grace we fall;

And is there no deliverance there,

And must we perish in despair?

4 See, we repent, we weep, we mourn,

To our forsaken God we turn;

O spare our guilty country, spare

The church which thou hast planted here.

5 We plead thy grace, indulgent God;

We plead thy Son’s atoning blood;

We plead thy gracious promises;

And are they unavailing pleas?

6 These pleas, presented at thy throne,

Have brought ten thousand blessings down

On guilty lands in helpless woe;

Let them prevail to save us too.